


heaven (is when I'm alone with you)

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angel Wings, Collaboration, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, M/M, gratuitous use of bible imagery because Akechi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 22:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15850479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: Akira delights in the way that Akechi’s eyes light up every time he does get to see them, or touch them– experience that they exist, thatAkiraexists in this world as a guardian angel tohim.And then something like sadness kicks into dark eyes, something guarded that Akira doesn’t understand and doesn’t think it’s his place to ask.Art/fic collab with lithalos!





	heaven (is when I'm alone with you)

_Six days shall work be done, but on the seventh day there shall be to you an holy day, a sabbath of rest to the LORD: whosoever doeth work therein shall be put to death. - Exodus 35:2_

 

Sunday afternoons, Akira thinks, are the best. They are one day to relax, one day he can relax; it’s the one day where his and Akechi’s schedules line up completely. Provided they don’t need to explore a Palace or Mementos, Sunday afternoon is _theirs._

It’s been difficult to juggle student life, Phantom Thief life, his part-time jobs, and the fall from Heaven.

Other angels, ones more conservative than he is, would take offense to that little joke. So it hadn’t been an _actual_ fall from Heaven– that kind of fall implied wrongdoing, losing his wings, and Akira hasn’t done that yet but talk to him after his superiors find out his involvement in the Thieves– but being punted down from Heaven to earth _had_ been a fall. One Akechi had taken such teasing amusement in when he had found out about.

 _“So, you truly did fall for me,”_ he had said, one day over his coffee. A soft smile, the steam billowing into his face as he waited for it to cool.

 _“Like I haven’t heard that one before,”_ Akira had said. Hundreds of years as an angel awaiting their charge to step foot on the earth and require their protection; his fellow angels tired out the _falling_ jokes more quickly than he could blink. But he _had_ fallen for Akechi. He would do anything for him, even more than the average guardian angel would.

Akechi holds his life in his hands. Especially given when Akechi died, so too would Akira, same as any other guardian with any other human.

But it’s Sunday afternoon. Akira isn’t going to think about that. The future is distant. Right now is coffee and crowding in close on the sofa to finish the crossword puzzle with Akechi.

“Hawaiian coffee.” Akechi turns to him. “That’s you.”

He wonders if Sojiro only supplies crosswords that have coffee clues. “Kona.” It’s almost a reflexive answer at this point; he’s known everything there is to know about coffee and then some. Somehow it doesn’t get tiring. Or maybe it’s not tiring because Akira’s distracted by the way Akechi taps the pencil at the corner of his mouth, and how he smiles at the answer, head dipping low over the paper to scratch in the letters.

“Amazing as usual,” he says, and Akira pushes his hair out of his face to kiss him.

Sunday afternoon is coffee and crosswords and cuddling on the couch, kissing away the halfhearted protest Akechi gives as he tries in vain to continue the puzzle. There’s something far more complex in front of him, complex and yet _effortless,_ too. Akira’s never been in love before. He hadn’t even been sure if he possessed the ability. But he does. He is.

He slides his hand into his hair, and presses his forehead against Akechi’s.

“The puzzle–”

“Give your brain a break.” It isn’t really a complaint, although he makes it sound like one. “It’s Sunday. I don’t have to chase you around all day, so you should take it easy too.”

“Chase me.” Akechi snorts softly, abandoning the paper and pencil on the sofa next to them. “Is that what you call teleportation, _and_ flying?” His eyes settle just beyond Akira’s left shoulder and, as if on a silent demand, he lets his wings unfurl.

They’re a pain, here, in the attic, where there’s no room to properly stretch them out. But Akira delights in the way that Akechi’s eyes light up every time he does get to see them, or touch them– experience that they exist, that _Akira_ exists in this world as a guardian angel to _him_ . And then something like _sadness_ kicks into dark eyes, something guarded that Akira doesn’t understand and doesn’t think it’s his place to ask. But he always makes it a point to chase away that unhappiness before it can linger. Whatever Akechi is thinking, Akira won’t let him dwell on it. Not while he’s here.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Akechi says quietly, and he’s pensive in that way Akira hates.

“Why not?” He shrugs, and his wings ruffle. He’s relied on blink and transport too much lately. It’s faster to clear long distances between here, school, Akechi’s work or Akechi’s school, but he’s been cooped up for ages. He’s dying to go out to fly. He wonders if Akechi will let him take him this time; he’ll make a point to ask next Sunday. “I know you love my wings.”

Akechi laughs, quiet and soft. His eyes close briefly, and then he speaks. “One thing of many, Kurusu. One thing of many.” He breathes out, and nuzzles his face into Akira’s hair. One of his hands stroke lightly along one of the arches of his wings and Akira shivers at the contact.

“They’re your favorite part of me and you know it, _Goro.”_ Teasing is preferable, and there’s nothing quite like the way the smile seems to spread across all of Akechi’s face or the way his eyes glitter in the dying vestiges of sunlight creeping through the window. “That’s the only reason you date me. Because I’m stuck to you, _and_ I have wings.”

“Remind me of a time I’ve benefited from you having wings.”

“Last week, when you tripped over that pothole.”

“I tripped, and then you showed after the fact to heal my scraped knee.”

Akira stifles a snort of laughter and presses a kiss into his hair. “You weren’t in immediate danger. If you were, I’d be there.”

That’s a promise, one he can never break and never would. He can’t imagine a life where he hadn’t been assigned Goro Akechi as his charge, couldn’t imagine still being up in their clouds when he would swear that the true Heaven was _here._

“Of course you would,” Akechi says quietly. “That’s your duty.”

“I’d do it either way.” It’s an immediate response, another thing he doesn’t need to think about, either.

“Even if you weren’t my guardian?”

Akira’s taken in by the warmth of Akechi’s skin, the way his nose slides alongside the line of his jaw. The flutter of Akechi’s pulse beneath his lips as he presses them to the detective’s neck. Humans are fascinating, endlessly, and he’s been blessed with the most fascinating one of all. And he _won’t let him dwell on whatever he’s thinking about._

Today is their day. Today is a good day.

“Especially then,” Akira agrees, and presses another, more insistent kiss against his skin.

When Akechi huffs a laugh this time, his fingers slide into Akira’s hair. “Haven’t you heard flattery gets you nowhere?”

He rolled his eyes. “Flattery gets you everywhere.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Akechi relents, and he’s smiling the whole while.

  


The visit drags on longer than expected. Sojiro coyly tells them to behave and Morgana has long since left the cafe, as he’s wont to do when Akechi visits. A conflict of interest, with the latter; Morgana doesn’t understand the _importance_ of their relationship beyond being in love. He doesn’t know Akira actually _belongs_ to Akechi, he doesn’t know he’s guardian to the detective prince. None of his friends do. He trusts them with his life, with the safety of the world, but while they know he’s _an_ angel, he has never felt compelled to say who’s.

He thinks it might be obvious, as Akechi lounges behind him on the bed and idly strokes his fingers against his feathers. But he will never say. That secret belongs to them, and only them, in the same way they belong to each other.

Just like Sunday evenings belong to them, when they head down the street for a soak in the bath, and when Akira makes coffee at a god awful hour given that they both have to be at school tomorrow, and when they curl up together in bed and Akira wraps his arms around him, wraps his _wings_ around him. He promises that he’s there to protect him without even needing to say words, and he pretends that he doesn’t notice the look that crosses Akechi’s face, the way he swallows like he’s nervous before he lets himself be the little spoon with little complaint.

They’ll have school in the morning, Akechi will undoubtedly have to work, Akira will have homework and his own part-time job. They’ll have to meet up as the Thieves by the end of the week, venture back into the Palace and find their targets in Mementos.

But for right now, Akechi’s body is a warm presence against his, lax and breathing slow with sleep as he dozes off first, and Akira doesn’t think about all of the other stuff.

Yes, Sunday nights are _theirs,_ and it is their day to rest.

  


**Author's Note:**

> This piece was meant to be for an Akeshu zine that me and lithalos eventually decided it was time to part ways from, but now that we've been removed from it, time to make it public for all of your guardian angel consumption needs >;3c
> 
> [liam's part can be found here go look at it it's beauty and grace](https://twitter.com/lithalos/status/1035430069399957504)


End file.
